


Flowers

by Crysania



Series: Catatonic!Belle [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: After the curse breaks, Maurice goes looking for Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers

Moe is tending lovingly to his roses when it happens. One moment he’s pruning the bushes, shears in hand, his only concern how the flowers are growing. And the next moment he’s simply stopped. He feels a wave of _something_ crash through him and with it comes…memories?

For a moment he’s not sure. For a moment he thinks this must be a stroke or a brain tumor. He’s Moe French. He owns a flower shop. His girl ran off and married the town monster and was left as a shell of herself after an argument and an accident. He had expected that she would come home someday. Now he knows she lives in the back of the pawnshop and doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see her again

But then the conflicting memories begin to take over and suddenly he knows the truth. He’s not Moe French. Not really at least and he looks down at the large calloused hands holding the pruning shears and wonders how they got there. He’s Maurice, the not quite king of a little coastal town that was once nearly overrun by ogres.

And it’s not Gold who has his daughter.

It’s Rumplestiltskin.

Moe… _Maurice_ …shudders as he remembers the deal that took his daughter from him and that he never saw her again. He had long since assumed that the imp had done something horrible to her, that she had died.

But she didn’t. She’s alive, here in this little town they’ve somehow all ended up in. Or at least, she’s alive to some degree. He still remembers her in the hospital. The doctors said her brain was functioning but something was blocking her reactions and her ability to interact with people. They thought she could pull out of it….someday. And so had sent her home with her _husband_.

Moe slams a fist against the wall of his shop, reveling in the pain for a moment. He needs to bring Belle home. He needs to rescue her from whatever situation she has ended up in, even if it means confronting the man. Even it means facing up to whatever horrible thing he _did_ do to her. Catatonic. His Belle. Just a shell of the beautiful woman she had been once so long ago. He does not doubt for a moment that this is Gold’s… _Rumplestiltskin’s_ …doing.

He hadn’t been able to save his Belle in their homeland.

He hadn’t been able to save her in this world.

But he knows he has to try to save her now. He’ll bring her home, tend to her as he once tended to his flowers. He’ll consult doctors, get her the best care he can, though he knows money is somewhat scarce and he’s been on the brink of losing the shop to Gold for some time now.

It won’t stop him though.

She’s his _daughter_. And she deserves better than that monster.

He heads to the town square, hears nothing of his daughter. He puts up posters and hopes she has escaped, hopes she’ll see them and return home. The posters disappear almost as soon as they’re hung. He can only imagine what that means. She’s still with _him_. She may still be in a catatonic state. She needs rescuing. And it’s up to him to do it.

He sets off for the pawnshop first. He hasn’t been there in a very long time, but he remembers going to visit her there, hearing rumor that Gold kept her there instead of at their house. He doesn’t know why he would. He’s rich as Midas, probably quite literally he suddenly realizes as he remembers the king with the golden touch, and can hire a horde of nurses to watch over her at the house and be done with dealing with her.

The sign on the shop is turned to closed. It’s dark inside. Moe isn’t going to take that as an answer and so pounds on the door, shaking the glass. He’ll break it if he has to, anything to get to his daughter.

“Gold!” he shouts, not paying attention to those who stop and stare at the irate florist.

He bangs harder. The windows rattle beneath his meaty fists. “Rumplestiltskin, you come out here right now!”

He knows it’s daring, probably a bit crazy. He pulls his arm back, winds up, about to smash the glass. A hand pulls his back suddenly.

“What are you doing?”

He turns and his eyes fall on David Nolan. He can’t quite sort out who he was in their world and so stares at him or a moment. “David,” he finally says.

“He’s not here,” David starts to say.

“Where is he?”

“Look, Mr. French.” David puts his arm around him, but Moe shrugs him off. “I know you want to find your daughter.”

He nearly crumbles at the words. “He has her. And she can’t protect herself.” He hates how far he’s fallen, hates the tears that he can feel choking the words.

“I know.” Moe hates the sympathy in David’s voice. _Hates_ it. He’s the leader of his little area of the forest. He should be stronger, but the curse has brought him low. Far lower than he’s ever been. “But breaking windows of an empty pawnshop is not going to help you.”

Moe nods and turns to go. He knows the only other place he’ll be. Gold’s not a personable guy. He’s either holed up in his pawnshop, at his house, or collecting rent. It’s not rent day and he’s not at his shop. That just leaves his large home on the outskirts of town.

Moe has never been there, though like everyone else, he knows _where_ it is.

The house is quiet when he arrives. Quiet…and pink. Moe thinks it must be some sort of joke that the most frightening man in town lives in a pink house. But still, the place gives him the willies. That _man_ gives him the willies. He remembers him back in their homeland, guiding his daughter out with one clawed hand wrapped around her waist.

He had known, in that moment, that his daughter was doomed, that she wasn’t just to be a caretaker of an _estate_. He worried about her mind, about her very soul, about what would become of her.

Even now he is ashamed that he did not call her back, did not refuse the deal. He knows he couldn’t, not really. His daughter made it, that damned independent streak he had seen from her had finally come out in full force and she had walked off, proud almost, with that ghoul at her side.

He remembers slumping into his seat. He remembers the horror and the shame and remembers crawling back to his suite of rooms to be alone. She had been all he’d had left in the world. And then she was gone.

He strides up to the front door and lifts his fist to bang on it. He hasn’t even gotten his hand all the way up when the door opens and he’s faced with _him_. He looks different here. Of course he does, but there is still that aura of unleashed power. Here he’s quieter and without the prancing and giggles, but he still send a shiver of ice down his spine.

“Mr. French,” Gold says and the words are laced with some sort of darkness. “What can I…”

Moe takes a step forward. He wants to appear menacing. It should be easy. After all, he’s at least a head taller than the man and twice as wide. He dwarfs him, though he recalls that he dwarfed him in their homeland too and that did not make him any less terrified of him.

“Where is she?” He would sound menacing to anyone else, but Gold just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

“And who might that be?” He still speaks with that same smirk and Moe wishes with everything he is that he had the nerve to wipe it off.

“My daughter…you…”

“My _wife_ , you mean.” The look on his face hasn’t changed. “Why _haven’t_ you come to visit her in all this time, anyway?” Gold bares his teeth in a sneer and Moe wrings his hands.

“Gold,” he starts to say and the man in question takes a step off the porch, leaning heavily on the cane that he can well see turning into a weapon if he’s provoked. He’s never had a reason to use it on Moe but he can tell he’s itching to try it out.

“That’s _not my name_ ,” the smaller man sneers at him.

“Rumplestiltskin,” Moe says quickly and feels close to groveling. If he grovels, perhaps he’ll give her back. If he begs and pleads and offers himself in her place, perhaps he’ll free her from whatever horror she is living in. “My daughter…”

“You want me to release her from the deal.”

Moe barely notices that it’s a statement and not a question. “Yes…yes please. I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” Gold says and Moe cringes at the tone of his voice. He knows that tone all too well. He knows it’s not the first time he’s promised him _anything_ and gotten the short end of the stick.

“Rumple, what’s going on?” The voice that comes from somewhere behind the pawnbroker sends a series of shockwave’s down Moe’s spine

“Belle?” Moe steps to the side a little bit and then there she is. Bright, alive, everything she once was. She’s coming down the stairs, treading on light steps. She looks like she owns the place and he shudders slightly.

When she sees him, her eyes light up. “Papa!” And then she pushes past Gold…actually _pushes past him_ …to get to her. And Gold does nothing to her, nothing at all. She wraps her arms around Moe’s middle in a fierce hug and he almost weeps. His Belle. She’s _alive_. She’s not a shell sitting in the back of the town monster’s pawnshop. She’s here and she’s alive and she’s his precious child once more.

She steps back then and Moe finds he doesn’t want to let her go. But he does. “I’m here to save you, my dear.” And he knows how ineffectual the words really are.

“Save me?” she asks and he sees her exchange a look… _a look_ …with the monster. It makes him nervous and he wants to snatch her up and run away with her. He probably could. His daughter was always tiny but after everything she’s gone through, she looks positively waifish.

He knows that has to be because of what the monster has been doing to her. He reaches out a hand and touches her shoulder. “Yes. You can come home with me. I’ll protect you.”

Belle shakes his hand off her arm and steps back, holding her hands up in front of her. “Protect me? From _what_?”

He doesn’t want to come right out and say it. He assumes she’ll understand. His Belle was always bright. Has the curse taken that from her? Is she still not quite herself? Instead of speaking, he simply meets her eyes and then nods at the man who hovers close by, just a scant few feet behind her.

Belle’s eyes widen and then she laughs. He’s not even sure what to think of that. There is mirth in her eyes and a wide grin and then she turns and looks at Gold. His mouth turns up in a small smile as his eyes meet hers and Moe feels suddenly like he’s intruding on something.

“Oh, Papa.” Her words are soft. “My knight in shining armor.” She touches his arm. “There is no one to protect me from.”

Gold steps forward and actually has the gall to wrap his arm around Belle’s waist. She goes with him easily, leaning back against the smaller man’s body. She looks comfortable there and he’s not sure what to think of that. He’s not sure what to think of _anything._

“Belle,” he tries again. “You’re not married here, not really. Come with me.” He holds out his hand. Perhaps her memories are stronger than his, perhaps she cannot see her real self for all the fake memories. “We’ll get through this nightmare together.”

“Papa, there is no nightmare…”

He cannot stand for this. He can’t. He steps forward. “Belle,” he says and his voice has turned a bit dark, edged with worry and a bit of panic. He reaches out a hand and grabs her arm. Maybe he’s a bit rougher than he intends, but it doesn’t matter. One moment he has his hand on his Belle and the next he’s slammed up against the side of the house, pinned there by an invisible force.

“Mr. French,” Gold says and he can see the man bare his teeth as he approaches. Belle is behind him looking upset, as she well she should. “ _Never_ touch her again.”

“Rumple.” Belle’s voice has risen in pitch. She’s worried about her old man and he feels touched at that. Perhaps now she’ll see Gold for the monster he truly is.

Gold steps closer and his hand grips his cane tightly. “Never. I mean that. Do not look at her. Do not come to our house.” He raises the cane slightly. “Do not…”

“Rumple, _please_.” Belle steps forward and places her hand on the man’s arm and Moe wants to scream. _Don’t, Belle! He’ll kill you!_ But the words cannot pass his lips. He can only watch in horror as the man takes his eyes off him and looks at Belle. _Please don’t harm her…not my girl…_ “Rumple,” Belle says again and he realizes quite dumbly that she’s calling him by a _nickname_ and he doesn’t like what that portends. “Rumple you are better than this. I know you are. Please…”

For a moment no one moves and then Gold releases him from whatever has been holding him in place and he finds he can speak again. “Belle, what is going on?” He doesn’t like the way his voice seems to be hovering somewhere between anger and whining, yet there it sits.

“Oh, Papa.” Her voice is soft as she speaks. “I’m here because I want to be here. I choose this.” She glances back over at Gold once more. The man is still breathing hard from his anger, but he watches as his eyes soften, as his lips settle into a small smile. “I choose _him_.”

“You…” And here he hesitates. Because he’s not sure how to get the words out, not sure he wants them spoken out loud. He doesn’t want them verified by her. Finally he manages to speak. “You fell in love with him?”

Belle nods and her face breaks out into a huge smile. An honest smile.

“He’s bewitched you,” Moe mutters.

“No, Papa.” She holds her hands up as she speaks. “No he hasn’t.”

“Belle,” he fairly growls. There’s no explanation for it other than his using his magic on her. His Belle does not fall in love with monsters.

“Papa,” she says again.

And then Gold is striding forward, using his cane to maneuver quickly around his daughter. He doesn’t quite push her behind him but he sees her take a step back. He thinks she’ll be horrified, angry. But she’s not. She looks almost…resigned. “There’s one thing you really should remember about your own daughter, Mr. French.” The words are soft, yet with bite behind them.

“What…what’s that?” He hates the way his own voice betrays him in that moment.

“She’s the only one who decides her fate.” The words are clipped and serve only to make him more irate.

“Then let her make them.” He steps forward, using his considerable height to stand tall over the other man.

“I do,” the pawnbroker snarls at him and he only shifts just slightly but the cane that he’s been using to support his weight is in his hand and Belle has rushed forward and her hand is on the pawnbroker’s slender arm.

And then it all stops with her next words. “Papa, please leave us.”

“Belle, I…”

“Papa, I’m _happy_ here.” And he doesn’t want to believe her, but there’s this look in her eyes, determined and brave. Oh so brave. She always was, after all. “You can’t take that away from me, no matter how hard you try.”

“You’re happy here,” he repeats. “With this…”

“With Rumplestiltskin, yes,” she says quickly and he knows _she_ knew what his next word would have been.

“Belle.” The word is a plea.

“When you’re ready, Papa, I’ll be here.” She reaches out and squeezes his arm.

He turns then, giving her one long, sad look. It may be the last time he sees her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.


End file.
